Long Shot for Paul

by Matt Christopher

  “The old go, Chet! Nice play, Paul!” the coach shouted. He looked at Glenn. “Well, guess your brother came through that time, didn’t he?”

  Glenn’s eyes sparkled. “Guess he did,” he said happily.

  Paul went in for a while again in the fourth quarter. Glenn, in the game now, too, was surprised. He didn’t think the coach would let Paul go in with the Sabers trailing by ten points, 58–48.

  The ball was in the Sabers’ possession. Don flipped a short pass to Glenn, and Glenn passed to Paul. Paul was only a few steps away. A Jackrabbit sprang in front of him and Paul moved back.

  Shreeeeeek! went the whistle. The referee spun his hands. “Traveling!” he shouted.

  In spite of Paul’s violation, the Sabers got four points closer to the Jackrabbits’ score. The game ended with the jackrabbits winning, 64–58.

  No one said a word to Paul as Glenn walked with him to the dressing room. Only Coach Munson, who put his hand on Paul’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “Have to learn to pivot, Paul. And not to move that foot. They’ll call traveling on you every time.”

  Paul smiled. “Guess I’ll have to practice on it,” he said.

  If just one of the guys would say something to Paul while they were in the locker room, or taking their showers. But no one did. Except Benjy. He always did. The others just talked among themselves, ignoring Paul as if he weren’t around.

  Maybe Judy and I weren’t so smart in having Paul learn basketball, Glenn thought as he unlaced his sneakers and slipped them off. Maybe Paul would be a lot happier if he just stayed home and constructed things out of the model set and played his keyboard.

  On Thursday, December 30, the Sabers played the Blue Waves and won, 69–51. The next evening was New Year’s Eve. Mom played Paul’s keyboard and everyone stood around her and sang. It was snowing hard outside. Thick flakes of snow struck the picture window, melted, and streamed down the outer pane like fat tears.

  The children wanted to stay up and watch the New Year come in. Mom and Dad said it was okay. But at eleven o’clock Paul was missing. Glenn found him on the bed, fully dressed and fast asleep.

  “I figured he’d be too tired to stay up,” Dad said, smiling.

  He and Glenn started to get Paul undressed, but Paul awoke. He laughed at having fallen asleep, then finished undressing himself. He put on his pajamas and tucked himself in.

  “Good night, son,” Dad said.

  “Good night, Dad,” said Paul. “Good night, Glenn.”

  “Guess I’ll hit the sack, too,” said Glenn, stifling a yawn. He said good night to Dad, then went to the living room and said good night to Mom and Judy. Those were his last words to them this year. Then he went to bed.

  New Year’s Eve. What was so different about New Year’s Eve?

  11

  It stopped snowing by morning. The sun was up, greeting the new year like a happy child. The snow on the sidewalk and street lay like a fuzzy white blanket.

  “Boy, sure looks quiet out there,” Glenn said to Paul. “Guess everybody’s still asleep.”

  They swept off the driveway that afternoon and the three of them — Glenn, Paul, and Judy — played basketball. They practiced passing and foul shooting. Glenn figured that these were the important things for Paul to learn. At the same time he needed the practice himself.

  They each took twenty-five shots at the basket. Glenn didn’t bother to count how many he sank. But he counted Paul’s. Paul’s first two shots barely missed the rim. He sank the next four, missed the fifth, then sank the next and the next.

  Glenn’s mouth formed an oval. He looked at Judy and she looked at him. Her eyes danced.

  “Guess who’s getting to be an expert at foul shots,” she said cheerily.

  From that moment Glenn knew what he was going to have Paul practice on mostly. An expert? Why not?

  They returned to school on Monday, January 3. Glenn hated to see the morning come, but once he was in school he didn’t mind a bit. The students reviewed a little in each class, and the rest of the time talked about what they had done during their vacation. It seemed as if even the teachers weren’t anxious to do schoolwork this first day.

  The next evening the Sabers played the Gators, the team that was leading the loop. They had lost only one game so far, and that to the Blue Waves. News had gotten around that Dick Koles, their star center, was aver-aging nineteen points a game.

  Dick started off hot as a torch. He sank two field goals and a foul shot to put the Gators in the lead, 5–0, in less than a minute of play. Frog sank a long one to start the Sabers off. It seemed as if that was what they needed. For the rest of the first quarter neither Dick nor the whole Gators team could keep more than two points ahead of the Sabers.

  Glenn had gone in during the last few minutes of the quarter. He stayed in at the beginning of the second quarter, dropped in a basket to tie the score, then fouled his man on a layup shot. The Gator made both baskets, putting them ahead again by two points.

  Then Glenn got fouled. The referee’s hands went out, one finger extending from each. If Glenn made the first shot, he had another coming.

  He missed the shot, and his hopes fell.

  Paul went in for Benjy, but he never got the ball. No one passed it to him. Not once.

  The Gators led at the half, 27–25. The Gators’ big gun, Dick Koles, had scored nine points so far.

  The Gators cut loose in the second half. Their little left forward, a red-headed kid whom Glenn was guarding, dumped in two long set shots. Then Dick Koles laid one against the boards for two points. A moment later he was fouled as he tried to do it again. His layup missed. He was given two shots, made them both.

  I guess he is a star, Glenn muttered to himself.

  The Sabers called time out. Coach Munson got into a huddle with them. Jim and Andy had to guard that Koles kid better, he said. And Glenn had better guard that little redhead closer, too.

  “He flits around like a fly,” Glenn said, smiling.

  “You flit after him,” the coach told him.

  After time in was called, Glenn tried to flit after the redhead when the redhead flitted. It paid off. He intercepted a pass, bounced it to Jim. Jim dribbled it to the front court for a basket.

  Jim and Andy kept glued to the Gators center. There were fewer passes to him. Little by little the strategy worked. Now and then the Sabers pumped one in, and gradually the score on the Sabers’ side edged nearer the Gators’.

  Two minutes after the fourth quarter started, Chet Bruner, in Glenn’s place, sank a set shot from the key. The Sabers went ahead by one. With three minutes to go the coach sent in Paul.

  “Oh, no!” Glenn heard Don moan. “What’s he doing that for?”

  Glenn was surprised, too. But if Paul was given the ball, and was fouled …

  Paul was in the clear at the side of the keyhole. Jim had the ball, trying hard to keep away from two Gators who were after him like hornets. He flipped the ball to Paul.

  “Shoot, Paul! Shoot!” Glenn yelled from the bench.

  Paul looked at the basket for a fraction of a second, then shot. The ball rolled around the rim, dropped through!

  The fans screamed. Glenn leaped up, clapping thunderously. “Thataway, Paul!” he cried. “Thataway, of kid!”

  Later, with the ball in the Sabers’ possession again, Paul was called on a holding violation. The Gators took it out. They passed wildly. It went out-of-bounds and it was the Sabers’ ball again. They worked it up-court. Jim, surrounded by Gators beneath the basket, tried a hook shot. He made it!

  The seconds ticked away. Fifteen to go … fourteen … thirteen … Amidst cheering shouts, the Sabers walked off with the game, 58–56.

  “Paul Marlette,” said the Evening Journal the next day, “was the spark that ignited the Sabers. His field goal in the last quarter was the turning point of the game.…”

  12

  The Sabers continued on a winning streak, defeating the Cowboys, the Shawnees, and the J
ackrabbits. Some of the guys said it was Paul’s basket in the Gators game that had brought them luck.

  If it was luck, some of it had rubbed off on Paul. He sank a field goal in the game against the Cowboys and one in the Shawnees game. He was fouled in the jackrabbits game and given one shot, but missed it.

  He didn’t play much, however. The coach didn’t dare let him. Paul couldn’t seem to learn to pivot on one foot, nor to pass without getting the ball intercepted, nor to guard his man without grabbing hold of him. To keep Paul in the game too long would be next to disastrous.

  “He’d hurt the team,” Coach Munson explained to Glenn during the last quarter of the Jackrabbits game. “He’d hurt himself, too. His mistakes would bother the devil out of him. But he’s come a long way. Just playing a little while in each game has helped him. I can see that.”

  “He’s best on foul shots,” Glenn put in.

  “I see he is. Goes to show you what steady training will do. How are the boys treating him on the outside?”

  Glenn shrugged. “I guess they’re better. Frog speaks to him all the time now. So does Stevie.”

  “What about Don?”

  “He does when he feels like it.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll come around, too. He’s like Paul, in a way. Some things come to him very, very slowly. He has to work on it for a long time. He appreciates Paul. He just hates to admit it. One of these days he’ll come out of it like a chick hatching out of an egg. You wait and see.”

  The final game of the season was against the Blue Waves, on Tuesday, January 18. It was the Big Game. Both teams were tied for second place, with nine wins and five losses each. The Gators had already clinched first place with thirteen wins and two losses. They had beaten the Cowboys in the first game that evening. The poor Cowboys finished in the cellar with only two wins and thirteen losses.

  In the starting lineup were Andy Searles and Don Marshang at the forward positions, Jim Tilton at center, Glenn and Stevie Keester at the guard positions. The bleachers were nearly filled.

  Tom Snow, the Blue Waves’ tall center, outjumped Jim and tipped the ball to a teammate. A couple of passes got the ball near the Blue Waves’ basket. Glenn ran in to block the ball as a Blue Waves man started up with it and he struck the player’s wrist. The whistle shrilled. He turned away in disgust, putting up his hand to show that he was the offender.

  “Two shots,” said the ref. At least the player had not made the basket.

  The Blue Wave sank the first, missed the second. There was a scramble for the ball. Hands came up with it. The ball flew up against the boards, dropped through the net.

  Glenn took the ball from out-of-bounds, passed to Don, and the Sabers moved it up-court. The Blue Waves, wearing satiny blue uniforms with white trim, hovered around the basket. The Sabers couldn’t move in.

  Don took a set shot from the corner. It struck the rim, bounced high. Jim went in for the rebound, struggled for it with the Blue Waves’ tall center. He got it, passed it back. Glenn caught it, dribbled in, and laid it up. A basket!

  “Beautiful, Glenn!” shouted Paul from the bench.

  The Blue Waves took out the ball, moved it to their front court. Glenn tried to keep between his man and the ball as much as possible. The Blue Wave was about his size, but was fast and shifty. Glenn had to keep on his toes every second.

  Suddenly the man swung away from him. The ball came through the air like an orange bolt. Glenn leaped for it. It was just out of his reach. The Blue Wave caught it, went up. The ball arched over the ring. Jim and Tom Snow leaped and came down with it together, and the whistle shrilled for a jump ball.

  A horn sounded and Frog went in. He pointed at Glenn and Glenn went out. “The next time you’re in there try some corner shots,” advised Coach Munson. “It’s early, and those guys are guarding their basket like hawks.”

  Andy caught the tap. A moment later he was called for traveling and the ball went over to the Blue Waves. They moved the ball across the center line, then passed to a man at the sideline. Don was after it like a cat. He intercepted it and dribbled it back toward the Sabers’ basket. He passed to Jim. Jim bounce-passed to Frog in the corner and Frog took a set. The ball arched gracefully and dropped through the net with a soft swish.

  Before the quarter was over Benjy and Chet went in, replacing Andy and Stevie. Chet fouled a guy almost the first thing, resulting in another point for the Blue Waves. Then he sank a field goal. Benjy tried twice to drop one in, but couldn’t. The Blue Waves led 16–15 as the horn sounded.

  The coach let the same fellows who had finished the quarter play for about two minutes in the second quarter, then put Glenn and Stevie back in. Glenn wondered whether Paul would play. Maybe Coach Munson wouldn’t let him because winning this game was very important. It would mean ten wins for the Sabers and second place. No matter how decent the coach seemed at times, he liked to be at the top of the heap — or next to it. It gave him something to tell his friends about during the summer.

  The teams played evenly, neither one gaining three points more than the other. Then, with two minutes and ten seconds left in the first half, the Blue Waves lost the ball on a traveling charge. The buzzer sounded and Glenn looked to see who was coming in. Paul! His heart warmed.

  Stevie went out. Glenn took the ball from out-of-bounds, passed to Paul.

  “Make sure you don’t travel!” cautioned Glenn as he ran past his brother.

  Paul took a step forward, pivoted on his foot, passed to Don.

  “Way to go, Paul!” Don shouted.

  Was that a grin on his lips? Glenn smiled. Maybe Don was coming out of it already, he thought. Like the chick hatching from its egg.

  Don dribbled up-court, passed to Jim. Jim looked at the basket, feinted a shot to fake his guard out of the way, then bounced a pass to Glenn. Glenn ran in toward the basket, stopped as two men loomed in front of him. He passed to Don in the corner. Don took a set. In for two points!

  The Blue Waves moved the ball in short, swift passes to their basket, tried a layup, missed. Jim caught the rebound. In no time the ball was back up near their basket. Don tried a corner shot, missed. Tom Snow caught the rebound, but someone knocked the ball from his hands. It rolled across the floor directly to Paul. Paul scooped it up, passed to Stevie. Glenn glanced at the clock. There were nineteen seconds left in the half, and the Blue Waves were leading, 33–30.

  Quickly they moved the ball to their front court. Glenn passed to Jim and Jim shot to Don.

  “Shoot! Shoot!” the cry rose from the Sabers fans.

  Don was in the corner. He shot, just as the buzzer sounded. The ball struck the rim, spun around the inside of it, and went through.

  Sabers — 32; Blue Waves — 33.

  13

  The seconds winked steadily away in the second half. First the Sabers dumped in a shot, and then the Blue Waves dumped one in. The quarter ended with the Blue Waves trailing by one point, 45–44.

  They got hot in the fourth. For the first time in the game they put a spread of five points between them and the Sabers. Glenn, resting while Benjy relieved him, noticed Coach Munson banging his fists with a rapid tattoo against his leg. The coach was sweating as if he’d been running around on the floor, too.

  All at once he stood and shouted, “Bring it down, Don! Bring it down!”

  Don Marshang had just intercepted the ball, was dribbling it toward the Sabers basket. A Blue Wave ran alongside him, tried to steal the ball. Don stopped quickly, passed to Jim. Jim dribbled a bit, was blocked. He turned, whipped a pass to Don, and Don took a set. The ball sailed in beautifully.

  The whole Sabers bench — including Coach Munson — yelled their throats dry.

  Now the Sabers trailed by three points.

  “Okay, Paul and Glenn,” Coach Munson said. “Both of you go in. Send out Benjy and Frog. Paul, if you have a chance to shoot — shoot.”

  “I will,” Paul promised.

  The brothers reported to the scorekeeper
and went in. Glenn slapped Paul lightly on the hip. “Let’s get ’em, kid,” he said.

  The Blue Waves sank another. Jun then drove in and sank a layup. He was fouled, but the ball went through the hoop and he was given one shot. He made it! Two points behind!

  A minute to go. Don, flitting about like a mosquito, intercepted another pass. The Sabers moved the ball to their front court. They passed carefully. Glenn got the ball, saw Paul move to the corner, and passed it to him.

  “Shoot, Paul!” cried Glenn.

  Paul had caught the ball. He looked at the basket. He started to shoot, when a Blue Waves man sprang in front of him, struck the ball and his hands.

  Shreeeeek! “Two shots!” shouted the ref.

  Glenn’s heart thundered as Paul went to the free-throw line. The Sabers fans were whooping like crazy. The referee pleaded for them to be quiet, then handed the ball to Paul.

  Paul bounced it once, looked at the basket, and shot. Swish! Right through the net! For an instant the crowd yelled — then quieted again.

  Paul took his second shot. Swish! The score was tied!

  The Blue Waves took out the ball, lost it on a traveling violation. Once again, with caution, the Sabers moved the ball toward their basket. Then, from the corner, Don took a set. It went in!

  Seconds later the buzzer sounded. The ball game was over. The Sabers won, 53–51.

  The Sabers formed a belt around their happy coach. “Hooray, Coach! Hooray, Coach! Hooray, Coach!” they yelled.

  Coach Munson was as thrilled as his charges. One by one he pumped their hands. When he came to Paul he shook Paul’s hand harder than he did any of the others’.

  “Paul, those two foul shots did it,” he said. “You came through like a champion.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” Paul’s sweating face beamed like a beacon.

  Then, to Glenn’s happy surprise, Don came up to Paul and shook his hand, too. “You did great, Paul!” he said. “You really helped us win that ball game!”

  Then all the other players shook Paul’s hand. Glenn thought he had never seen Paul so happy.